The Eyes of the Angel
by XenoSangui
Summary: After the final battle, everyone Harry knows and loves is gone, lost to him forever. He left his heart on the battlefield and just when he thinks he's about to lose it all, an angel appears. Castiel saves him in more ways than one.
1. Fleeting Soul

**Title**: The Eyes of the Angel

**Characters: **Harry, Castiel

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Character Death(s), Suicidal thoughts, Dark

**Spoilers: **None.

**Word Count: **1,304

**Summary: **After the final battle, everyone Harry knows and loves is gone. He left his heart on the battlefield and just when he thinks he's about to lose it all, an angel appears. Castiel saves him in more ways than one.

**Author's Note: **Holy...this is depressing. I'm not usually one for stories quite like this one, but I found an image(link can be found in my profile) that broke my heart and the guy in it looked so much like Harry...this happened. Go look at the picture, though. It's heartbreaking and breathtaking at the same time. I adore it. By the way, this occurs pre-supernatural series and follows the HP books through the 6th book.

* * *

><p>Harry never imagined the Final Battle would be the thing, after years of being persecuted by a blood-purity fanatic, to break him.<p>

Ron—his best friend that stuck by him through thick and thin(with one noticeable exception)—was gone. About three months ago, a surprise attack on the Burrow killed him and all the remaining Weasley family. None of them, not even sweet Ginny, were spared of the brutal torture and slow killings. Ron was the last to be killed, but first he had to endure watching his entire family die before his eyes, while he watched, helpless and knowing he would join them. Despite all that, Harry couldn't cry.

Sirius, who died when he fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He was only there to save Harry.

Remus—killed by Fenrir Greyback for 'turning his back on the pack'. In other words, Geyback just wanted a legitimate reason to kill Remus to gain favor with the Dark Lord. Harry killed Fenrir in return, only three days later.

Dumbledore—killed and tossed off the tower like a ragdoll.

Luna and Neville, two of the only remaining members of the legendary D.A., were killed in battle right beside him. They both smiled, dying in each others arms. They were happy, in the end, but that only made Harry even angrier. The expression on their lifeless faces gave him even more reason to pursue Voldemort's blood.

The Death Eaters started winning around that time.

It all turned around on July 23. Harry never quite understood what made him wake up that one particular morning, alone in a magic tent with Hermione, his only close friend he had left. He only remembered picking up his wand and knowing that it would all change—they would win.

They were going to _fight back_.

So they did.

Harry killed Voldemort exactly three weeks later on a small battlefield just outside the naked shell of the burrow. Exhilaration shot through his veins as he pointed his wand at the defenseless murderer just moments after disarming him. Two words...two little latin words was all it took to kill the most feared wizard in the world.

Killing the leader didn't kill the spirit of the most dedicated followers—namely one Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black. The insane, melodramatic witch did only one last act before sacrificing herself at the point of Harry's wand.

A cutting curse.

The cutting curse is a nonlethal curse taught to a lot of younger Hogwarts students as a self defense method. It's known for its simplicity, the fact that it has a good success rate, and it has never killed people unless aimed wrong.

Bellatrix aimed that curse at Hermione's throat, slicing her jugular. In retaliation, Bellatrix was dead only seconds later, suffering a simpler fate to that of her beloved master. Harry held Hermione's head in his lap as she died, unable to even gasp out her last words because of the deadly wound.

She died that day.

Everyone died that day.

Everyone was _gone_.

He was alone, kneeling on a bloody battlefield, the only survivor. And he laughed, because _really_? The very thought is ironic. He was the one person who was supposed to die—now, he's the only one left alive.

It _hurt_—it ate away at his bones, his soul, his _magic_.

Magical fire burned around him as he sat in that field, not moving. No one came to get him, because no one was left. Sometimes, he wondered if It was all a hallucination. Maybe he was dead, in the pits of Hell, living out his worse nightmares while his friends were still alive on Earth, mourning his death.

Then he looked down at Hermione's still, agonized form and he remembered.

He hated.

He won.

He lost.

Harry never cried—not once.

After three days of pure agony wrenching at his heart, he stood on saky feet, swaying from side-to-side in a nonexistent breeze. He visited the bodies of all those who fell during that battle—Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Colin—the list goes on. No one was given mercy.

Not even little, infant Teddy.

The moment came when he realized this wasn't a battle—this wasn't even a war zone. It was a slauhterhouse—they never stood a chance against the overwhelming forces the Death Eaters presented. No one was left.

Only Harry.

He left the bodies where they lay in their ready-made graveyard, invisible to muggles for all eternity and on land so fueled by magic, their bodies would remain intact for centuries. Harry closed his eyes, pulling his magic to the surface and apparated as far as his magic would allow him.

He lands on a rickety old bridge. Hewasn't sure where he lands—it could be just about anywhere in the world. It wasn't, however, England, because England was gone. What's left of it was riddled by fire and corpses, and blood and death. This wasn't England, but that's alright.

Harry leaned over the side of the desolate bridge, staring into the depths of the water that cascaded below him. The roar of the river is loud in his ears—the sound of the pouring rain beating the thoughts out of his head. _It's nice here, _he decided quickly, continuing to look at the beautiful blue water that ran over sharp rocks._ It's easy to forget—to let it all go._

He still didn't cry.

The train tracks that run over the bridge are rusted over—old and unused, in places, the iron supports are completely gone. I's fairly reminiscent of his life now. His friends—his iron supports have been plucked away, so now he's alone, useless to the world and no loner cared about in any fashion. He took another step forward, leaning over the bridge even more.

His foot dislodged a part of the old track and it hurtled into the water. After only a few seconds, he wasn't able to pick out the little, useless piece of metal from the other pieces that have fallen over the years.

All heros fall.

The bridge will, one day, fall into the murky depths.

_It's over._

He wasn't certain if his thoughts were for the bridge or for himself.

Harry ducked under the iron rods holding up the bridge, his feet lining up perfectly with the edge of the platform. The water seemed even closer, swirling beneath him, ready to swallow anything it could possibly clutch onto.

His left hand held onto the only bar within reach as he leaned forward, mystified by the water—the lack of care—the hatred that seemed to drain away. It seemed better when he looked at the water and thought maybe, just maybe, it's good that this was all finally over—forever. A gale made him stumble, nearly falling off the bridge.

His breath quickened, his eyes looking towards the heavens—then he let go, letting the wind wrap him up in its embrace and carry him to the dark water—the sharp rocks—below.

But nothing happened.

His eyes lowered and he gasped.

He knew what saved his life—even if he didn't consider his life worth saving—the second he saw it. He wasn't disillusioned by the suit and trenchcoat, though some surely would be. No, because the first thing he saw was it's eyes—those amazing blue eyes that stared into his soul and told him not to do it.

Not to give up.

No to waste everything he had.

So, Harry stepped back, unable to take his eyes off the angel—the angel that saved him from himself.

"You should not waste the life given to you, Harry Potter. Enough people have sacrificed themselves for you today." Harry allowed his eyes to fall at those words, ashamed as his hands were clenched tightly at his sides.

When the angel stepped closer, Harry moved forward and buried his head in the soft fabric of the trenchcoat.

And for the first time in almost three years, he cried.

* * *

><p><em>Yes, the entire chapter is supposed to sound choppy, confusing, and repetitive. It's like this in order to symbolize Harry's current state of mind—broken, but not beyond repair.<em>

_This, for now, is the only part for this story. I do, however, plan to continue it at a later date. I can't right away because school is about to get really hectic again and I have so many other stories lined up already. Never fear, I do hope to get to this one eventually._

_Review if you have any input, suggestions, or just want to offer support. I'm not sure where to go from here, but I do know that the pairing will(obviously) be Harry/Castiel. Thanks!_


	2. Conversations

**Title**: The Eyes of the Angel

**Characters: **Harry, Castiel

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Character Death, Suicidal thoughts

**Spoilers: **None.

**Word Count: **1,702

**Summary: **After the final battle, everyone Harry knows and loves is gone. He left his heart on the battlefield and just when he thinks he's about to lose it all, an angel appears. Castiel saves him in more ways than one.

**Author's Note: **I've written a second chapter...and I have no idea where I'm going with this. For now, the chapters may skip around a bit until I find my niche. Okay, on the positive side, the chapter isn't depressing. Actually, it's just the opposite. Kinda gooey. Lots of Castiel/Harry interaction. Unfortunately for all those who don't like the whole bonding and "soulmates" aspect of some stories...well, you'll be disappointed. I've really been wanting to write one and now I have the opportunity, so I'm going to run with it.

* * *

><p>"Why did you save me?" The words fall through his lips before he can stop them—before he can even <em>think<em> to stop them. Harry ducks his head, flushing in embarrassment. The hands running through his hair stop briefly. Harry holds his breath, but lets it go when the hands continue their meticulous strokes through his ebony locks.

"After all this time, you still don't understand?" Harry trembles, the words sending strange, yet pleasant shivers down his back. "You haven't learned?"

"I've learned a lot." Harry answers back quietly, his head resting comfortably on the other man's thigh. "But I still can't figure out why, of all the people you could've saved, it was me you chose. A lot of people contemplate suicide. Why stop me?"

His angel sighs, leaning down and gently kissing Harry on the forehead. The boy smiles when a feeling of absolute warmth washes over him, bathing him in sunlight. "That's not an easy question to answer, Harrison."

"And that's not my name," Harry shakes his head lightly until the hands are withdrawn and he rolls around on his knees until he's facing towards Castiel instead of away. "Please tell me. I don't like things being kept secret from me."

"I understand that." Castiel pulls Harry up onto his lap, letting his chin rest on top of Harry's head as they curled around each other. The physical touch calms Harry's racing heartbeat immediately. "We have not known each other long, my Harry. A month—"

"...is a lot longer for a human than it is an angel." Harry leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "Why can't I know? Is it that bad?"

"No, never. It's merely...difficult for a human to comprehend the true significance of what's happening between us."

"It doesn't seem too hard to me," Harry's small smile fades when he sees Castiel's expression—the complexity of the emotions running through Castiel.

Castiel hugs Harry tighter to his chest, but Harry merely shifts, not uncomfortable at all. He can see how difficult it is for Castiel to say the words. "I was not meant to take this vessel until much later—if ever at all."

Harry wants to ask what the vessel has to do with the situation, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. This may be his only opportunity to hear the truth.

"Since Jimmy Novak is my true vessel, disconnecting and going back to Heaven after a long period of time within the vessel would be extremely difficult, though not impossible. In such, I am more useful to my garrison if I stayed in my true form."

Harry reaches up and touches Castiel on the cheek, mesmerized. "I'm sensing a big 'but' coming up soon."

One of Castiel's rare half-smiles settles Harry's nerves, "However, when God saw your troubles, he sent me out to prevent the death you were planning to take out on yourself. If that would have occurred..." The angel trails off, clearly lost in the memory.

"Why you? Why me. I don't get it."

"Harrison," Harry huffs at the name, but Castiel continues as if he never heard the protesting sound, "Angels and humans cannot have any relationship. It's impossible. Angels do not have the emotions nor the compassion to keep a human happy and a human cannot understand the complexity of the duties an angel holds."

"Then—"

"Let me finish."

Harry nods in acquiescence, so Castiel continues, his breath warm on Harry's pale neck. "However, for every angel, He created a creature—whether human or angel—that balances out an angel's negative and positive reactions and keeps them grounded. It's a bond and that bond is important to every angel that has one—you are mine."

Harry tenses up, but doesn't push away. He has so many questions. They cloud his mind, swirling furiously around in his head. It's impossible to pick just one. "Meaning?"

"If you jumped off the bridge, I would not have felt much." Castiel gives up the information without hesitance—a surprising change for the strict angel. "Had we already known each other as we do now, I would feel great agony upon your death." Castiel pauses, searching for the words. These moments of weakness—the pure innocence Castiel gives out during these times—shows Harry just how much trust the angel truly has in him. "Finding a Bondmate...it happens once in our lifetime. Losing you once would mean never knowing—I was Created curious by my Father. I couldn't let that opportunity go by without an attempt on my part."

"I'm glad you did," Harry admits, wincing. "I was...broken. Living another moment—I couldn't. If I didn't have you, I think I still would have tried again, but...it's nice when you're here. I don't hear the screams..."

Castiel lifts his jaw from where it had been resting on top Harry's head, running one finger down the side of Harry's face slowly. Once, Harry had been freaked out by the strange touches, but the closeness eventually started to be more comforting. "That would be an effect I have on you. It isn't purposeful and I can't stop it if I wanted to."

"Don't. It's fine. I don't mind." Harry's sits back in the embrace of his angel; sometimes, they can sit like this for hours, only them, with no worries about the outside world. "So, bondmate? Mind if I ask what that entitles?"

"Maybe later," Castiel mumbles slowly in Harry's ear, "At the moment, I believe I am going to take you out to eat at the restaurant down the street."

Harry protests mildly, "But you don't eat."

"But you do." There's no winning an argument against an angel who has centuries of experience to back up his logic.

"You're just trying to get me to stop asking questions."

"Perhaps."

Harry shimmies off Castiel's lap with a smug smirk. He'll make Castiel spill all the juicy information later—he always does. In the meantime, food awaits him. He runs around like a chicken with his head cut off for a spell before he finally picks up his thin jacket from where he left it lay a few hours earlier on one of the stray chairs that really has no business being in the room. He throws it on haphazardly, taking a moment to look a bit annoyed when he notices Castiel already has his trademark trenchcoat on without a bit of fuss.

Castiel walks up behind Harry, putting his hands on Harry shoulders. The human smiles gently, disrupting the odd embrace so he can kiss his angel softly, pouring all he has into it. None of the partners he had before could ever compare to Castiel. Then again, that may not be a fair comparison, since his past girlfriends were merely human. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Castiel."

"Wonder what?' Castiel pulls back, the faint smile making a presence on his face once more.

Harry just winks and walks right out the front door. "Maybe later." He mocks Castiel's earlier words in a sing-song voice.

Though Castiel's handy transporting is always an option, Harry prefers to walk most of the time. Whenever Castiel mentions it, Harry answers with the reply that he doesn't want to get flabby, but they both know the truth—life. Seeing life continue—watching with his own eyes as the human population continued to thrive despite his race being virtually wiped out helps the pain. His friends sacrifices—and his own—were not for nothing. He seems the little five year old muggle girl skip by with an ice cream cone in one hand and a doll in the other, he knows he may have saved that little girl's life—that his friends weren't sacrificed for no reason at all.

It gives Harry a reason to live.

He isn't suicidal anymore—Castiel's presence has made sure of that—but it always helps. Just a little.

It's an odd hour to be out and about in the streets. A few families and a couple stray teenagers are out wandering, but no one is in their near vicinity. Harry slips his hand in Castiel's, marveling it the smoothness of his palm before tugging him a little faster down the road. "You may live forever, Castiel, but I'm human, so walking at a normal pace might be beneficial."

Castiel follows obediently—for once. While the angel was dedicated to his role in heaven and doing just as his superiors told him, on Earth he usually has no qualms about disagreeing with Harry. Arguments, however rare they may be between the human and angel, certainly aren't on Castiel's lack of...enthusiasm?

The restaurant isn't the most tasteful place. The wallpaper is thin enough anyone can see the previous coloring and designs, the plants are fake and tacky, and the restrooms definitely don't keep up the 'clean every thirty minutes' policy.

Harry, however, grew up with the Dursley's feeding habits(which consisted of them eating like pigs while he went without every two meals out of three), so most food is pretty acceptable to Harry. Castiel, not being human, doesn't eat. He does, however, tend to look around with a particular amount of disgust he seems to want to shy away from. Many times, Castiel's tried to convince Harry to go else where, but the fact that Harry's is the only one working—and as a part-time bookshop employee doesn't pay the best as is—it's pretty much his only option.

Harry is well aware that Castiel only has to blink and he can have a 5-course meal on the table, but Harry does have to maintain a certain amount of independence. Buying food is simple enough as long as he doesn't splurge.

When the two of them are seated at one of the rickety booth is a shady corner, Harry leans forward, whispering despite the fact that the only people relatively close to them are an old couple adjusting their hearing aids, "_You are not going to get out of telling me about this bondmate deal thing."_

Harry ignores the knowing look Castiel gives him. _Damn._

* * *

><p><em>Gooey, right? I rather like it though.<em>

_So, I really want to hear your opinion on this and if you have any ideas, please shout them out. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this and (as of now) this is Pre-Series. Eventually, Harry with meet the boys, but I would be amazed if someone had anything for me. I have one tentative way to go, but I'm not sure whether or not it would...work?_

_Anyway, **review**. Even the short ones make my day._


	3. Subterfuge

**Title**: The Eyes of the Angel

**Characters: **Harry, Castiel

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Character Death, Suicidal thoughts

**Spoilers: **None.

**Word Count: **2,134

**Summary: **After the final battle, everyone Harry knows and loves is gone. He left his heart on the battlefield and just when he thinks he's about to lose it all, an angel appears. Castiel saves him in more ways than one.

* * *

><p>Harry stands on his tiptoes, holding his breath as he stretches his hand as high as he can, musty old book wavering a bit when he falls several inches short. He rolls his eyes and settles back from the shaky position he was in, leaning haphazardly against on of the many shelving units that litte3r the room in no noticeable pattern. He squints towards the top shelf, muttering a few choice words below his breath. He has a funny feeling that his boss wanted this particular set of books to be in by this morning so Harry would have to suffer with the fact that he's the shortest adult male just a little more.<p>

He casts a few cautionary glances around the shop and, after determining that he's the only living, breathing soul around, he pulls his wand from up his sleeve with a smirk. It can't _hurt_ right? He chants the familiar spell — from all the times Hermione fell asleep over her research and he was forced to spell the tomes back in place — and the books neatly float to the correct positions and slide themselves in their respective spots carefully. He slides the wand back up his sleeve, smiling, and congratulating himself for a job well done — take _that_, evil boss lady.

"I don't believe that is what she had in mind when she told you to place the books on their corresponding spots when they arrived, my Harry."

Harry starts, stumbling slightly when he struggles to turn around — a bad idea, it turns out.

Harry looks up from his now very uncomfortable place on the floor, the few books that hadn't been completely in place surrounding him."Castiel, for all that is holy and magical...A little warning would be nice." A stray page flutters to the ground. "She going to kill me. These are apparently very important books and I've just ruined at least one of them. Merlin." He picks up the offending page and shoves it in a random book, setting it off to the side. Maybe she wouldn't notice. "Well, are you going to help me up?"

Harry held up one of his arms and Castiel latches onto Harry's wrist, instantly pulling him up and as close as physically possible. "Not that I'm protesting, Castiel, but what's with the sudden closeness. The customers might not like it."

"What customers?" The fact that Castiel doesn't mean the sentence in a sarcastic way makes the question that much funnier.

"That's a really good question, Castiel. I dunno. That's really weird." He frowns, trying to figure out why not even the usuals who sit in the far corne and drink their coffee haven't arrived. It's strange and a little worrying. When Castiel sees the negative emotion pass over Harry's face, the angel pulls Harry closer, relishing in the touch. Harry sighs and relaxes. "If my boss walks in, she'll kill me."

"She will not."

"I didn't mean literally, Castiel." Harry buries his face in Castiel's neck, breathing in deeply. No matter how bad he was feeling or how much he wanted to scream, Castiel makes those emotions not matter anymore—a relief in his world of pain and horror.

He isn't completely better yet. He may feel normal half the time, but it doesn't erase the fact that he saw everyone he cared for and cherished killed—tortured in some cases—with his very own eyes. He saw the life die in their eyes...he saw them slump over...taking their lasts breaths. The things he saw broke him—made him snap from the intense feelings of pain. Castiel's presence solved the immediate pain, but the feelings always come back and Castiel can't be their every minute of the day to pull him through the awful thoughts he has on a regular basis.

Castiel's an angel — a warrior of God. Harry feels like he's only a sad little boy, broken and plagued by nightmares How he's the destined mate of an angel is beyond him. Only God knows the reasons.

Sometimes Harry really wants to know what exactly _He_ was doing when he made that match.

Harry wraps his arms around Castiel's waist, his eyes fluttering closed. "Something going on? You don't usually come to my work."

Castiel pulls away and Harry's heart sinks as the touch is retracted. The worrisome look is on Castiel's face again, showing the severity of the situation, so Harry pushes away any of his own problems immediately. "My Father has left Heaven."

Harry blinks, letting the words soak in slowly. His thoughts whirl — if God left Heaven, then a lot of angels would be upset. Chaos. Out of control angels — many of whom aren't fond of humans in general — was not what the world needs. "But — Why would He do that? That doesn't make much sense. Why—"

"It is not the first time. My father also left after Lucifer was cast down into the deepest bowels of Hell. He returned eventually." Castiel walks across the store, picking up a leather bound copy of the bible sitting partially open on on the the small tables. Harry obeys the silent order to stay where he was, watching Castiel worriedly. "My Father actually left a number of weeks ago." The angel admits quietly, replacing the bible again as he turns to face Harry.

"Okay then." And really, what's he supposed to say? As much as he loves Castiel, he doesn't know everything about the angel — they've only known each other for just over a month. There are so many things he can't say — he never knows when Castiel will be angered. Harry can't risk that anger He can't be left alone again; he barely survived it the first time, when his friends passed on. "The other angels have done something, haven't they?"

"No." Castiel says quietly, his gruff voice laced with something Harry can't identify at first. Eventually, he realizes it's _worry_. The stoic angel is _worried._ "Not yet. But they plan to do something soon."

"Do what?" Castiel doesn't meet Harry's eyes. Instead he partially turns, fixating his gaze out the window where a woman is tugging a little girl along as they struggle to get out of the downpour. "Castiel, do _what_?"

Castiel merely remains silent.

Harry shakes his head, going back to his work, this time placing the book on the high shelves manually. Getting Castiel to talk by force is completely impossible. He knows by now that the only way to get the information is to wait until Castiel is ready to reveal it..

One of the books slides off the stack forming in his arms, a few pages catching and tearing. _I'm so dead. She's going to kill me. _But the thought doesn't really worry him anymore. His gaze is back on Castiel within seconds, the pages shoved haphazardly back in their (_im_)proper places.

"You need to leave." Castiel finally speaks as Harry is placing the final book on it's shelf in the nonfiction section.

Harry's quirks his eyebrow, turning around as he brushes his hands off on his work pants. "Is there a reason for me disappearing Castiel? Right now, it's really hard for me to find a job since I don't have an school credentials since I was ten. I don't want to leave unless it's necessary."

"You think I would ask you to leave if it was not necessary?"

"No, Castiel," he runs his hands through his hair in frustration, walking a little closer to the sullen angel. "I just want to know why. This trust thing goes both ways."

Seeing Castiel begin a mental debate with himself, Harry looks away, a half-smile forming. Castiel's rare human moments are so..._human. _If not for his odd staring and angelic powers, he is so completely human sometimes.

"My Harry," Castiel is in front of Harry again in a second, his bright blue eyes capturing Harry's. "The disruption is causing many of my brothers to lash out at our Father and force him to come back." Harry stays quiet, placing a hand gently on Castiel's shoulder. "My brothers are aware that humans are my Father's most treasured Creation — he gave them..._you_ freewill. The fact that I have found my mate in a human is not...well respected nor liked. They wish to bring harm unto you, so I must to get you out of my brothers' reach before they succeed."

"I'm just not destined to have a normal life, am I?" Harry asks quietly, smiling despite his words. Though he wanted to have a normal life more than anything else, he's long since accepted that there is nothing normal about him. The fact that angels are trying to hunt him down is just the icing on the cake. "Where are we going to go?"

"I'm not sure. First, I need prevent them from being able sense you."

"Oh?" He crosses his arms self-consciously. He knows very well that playing subterfuge with angels requires Enochian to be carved into his ribs — he's not sure how he feels about the entire _carving _part. He trust Castiel with his life, but Harry's only human.

A little bit of doubt is allowed., but five seconds of Castiel's puppy eyes does him in for good. Really, they should be outlawed (though he has a feeling that angel's don't have to follow human laws). "Do it. I'm sure it can't be as bad as _Sectumsempra_."

Ten minutes later, Harry's on the opposite side of America, his arms folded as he glares at Castiel for the sudden intrusion. It's only then that he thinks _maybe _he should have locked up the bookshop...and left his boss a note that he isn't going to be available to work anymore. "Well, crap."

Castiel doesn't seem to notice the words passing through Harry's lips, because he disappears three seconds later, leaving a single feather in his wake. Harry picks up the precious feather carefully, tucking it in his pocket for safekeeping and smiling despite the fact that he has no idea what state he's in — if he's even in America at all.

The fact that an entire garrison of angels is out for him seems to have put Castiel in a bit of a rut—the angel is probably going to be in trouble with his superiors soon enough.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Questions<strong>_

A lot of reviewers ask questions that I feel I should answer to everyone, since I'm very elusive in my writing and I don't tend to give straight answers in the text very often. I don't mean to do it, but I always seem so vague. Anyway, it isn't necessary to read this part, but I wanted to settle some questions before they started multiplying. Feel free to skip these if you want, since they aren't necessary to read for the story to make sense.

**Why did only Harry live?**

All the British Wizards and Withces were wiped out by a massive spell that Voldemort chanted in his last seconds of life, essentially killing every wizard within a few thousands kilometers. There were survivors—they just left the country previous to the spell or they were out of range. Harry lived because he's become immune to Voldemort's magic. After all, if the killing curse didn't kill Harry, I don't another spell with the intention to kill will.

**Were the Goblins killed as well?**

I'm not sure why I like this question so much, but it was just so...outside the box. But to answer the question, yes. The spell searched for those with a magical signature (as magical creatures, they had a signature) and completely shredded that person's life essence and magical core.

**How old is Harry?**

He's about eighteen. The Final Battle occurred about a month before his eighteenth birthday. As such, he is considered an adult in the muggle world.

**How long has Harry known Castiel?**

As of this part, they have known each other for about six weeks. Castiel told Harry about the 'bond' about a month after their initial meeting. This may make their relationship seem a little hasty, but the bond may have a part in that...

**When does this story happen?**

Since this follows the general timeline of the movie and the books (disregarding Deathly Hallows), this is extremely pre-series at first. The first part happen in 1998, meaning Dean is 19, Harry is 18 and Sam is only 15. Harry won't meet the Winchesters until they are older, though. Don't worry, this won't stay preseries for too long — I just wanted Harry and Castiel to have a chance to get to know each other before the drama.

**Will the Apocalypse still occur?**

Tisk, tisk. I can't give away _everything_.

* * *

><p><em>So, here's another chapter. This story may actually go somewhere. I have a plotline in mind now, though it won't start for another few chapters. Have to get more CastielHarry fluff in before the angst sets in again._

_Review._


	4. Resurrection

**Title**: The Eyes of the Angel

**Characters: **Harry, Castiel

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Character Death, Suicidal thoughts

**Spoilers: **None.

**Word Count: **2,015

**Summary: **After the final battle, everyone Harry knows and loves is gone. He left his heart on the battlefield and just when he thinks he's about to lose it all, an angel appears. Castiel saves him in more ways than one.

**Author's Note: **I know, I promised to have this up weeks ago, but I got busy. It's also unedited, which is a big no-no for me, but I made an exception. I can't promise when I'll have the next chapter up. Sorry.

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><p>Setting up shop — figuratively — turns out to be even more difficult than Harry assumed it would be. Not only was he unable to find a employer who can look past his 'only having four years of school total' dilemma, but he hasn't seen Castiel since the angel dumped him halfway across the states in a small town just inside South Dakota. Sure, it has only been a week, but it' uncharacteristic of Castiel to simply...forget about Harry.<p>

Despite his hesitance towards bars in general — way too many past stories from Seamus and Dean made them seem like a Devil's parlor — he finds himself in one, gently sipping his first drink, staring off into the distance. Most of the other patrons stayed far away from him, sensing his wish to be alone. Of course, it was actually his magic warning them away, but none of them know that.

The place is inconsequential — six stools are shoved far up against the counter and only three other small rickety tables are pushed near the far wall, almost tipping the occupants out of their seats. That, however, could also be from all the alcohol in their systems.

The stools next to him squeaks as a someone makes themselves at home next to him. He tenses, more from instinct than from any feeling of fear. A small flicker of curiosity stirs in his veins, wondering who was able to resist the small wandless, compulsion charm he surrounded himself in before even stepping foot over the threshold of the bar.

Trying not to be too obvious, he tilts his head a little to left as he takes another small sip of the strong beer. He catches a quick glimpse of the pretty good looking man next to him. A flash of dark blonde hair and green eyes — though not as intense as his own — has him interested.

He never initiates a conversation though...especially not in a shady bar.

Instead, he takes another quick look at the stranger, sips the beer one last time, and decides to leave the bar before anything that's bound to happen...happens.

Years and years of constantly putting himself gave him the ability to feel when danger lingered around him...or it may just be acute paranoia. _Close enough.._

The person who walks in next immediately forces aside any curiosity Harry has towards the other human. Everything about the young man is completely opposite of what it should be. His hair is mangled and clotted with so much dirt, it looks black. His walk is uneven and his slump almost begs everyone to just leave him alone.

Despite all the differences in character and appearance, Harry immediately knows it's Draco Malfoy — the same Draco Malfoy he saw shot down in the final battle by his own father when the blue-blood revealed himself as a turncoat. Draco Malfoy is most certainly very dead.

So why was he at a _muggle_ bar in _America_ of all places?

As Harry gazes steadily across the room at the impersonator, their eyes connect. The telltale shifting and rebuking glare tells Harry all he has to know.

_A dead Draco is in the same bar as him — alive and...uncharacteristically dirty_.

Harry lets his original plan to get as drunk on muggle alcohols as a wizard could get fall through as he puts the glass back on the counter and jerks his head slightly towards the door. Only when he receives an answering nod — almost nonexistent — Harry throws the money on the table and quickly leaves the room.

Thirty minutes later, Malfoy joins him.

Even when Malfoy showed his true colours in his sixth year and confessed his hesitance to follow his father's demands to become another one of Voldemort's pawns to Dumbledore, Harry was hesitant to show his enemy any sort of trust. Malfoy was a Slytherin and the House of the Snakes were known to do some pretty nasty things to bring the statistics to their favor.

Malfoy was everything a young boy begging for help shouldn't be — haughty, demanding, and acting like a spoiled brat over the logistics of the entire matter. Yet, somehow Malfoy still managed to convince Dumbledore — though there may have been a small bit of Legilmency involved.

Harry was one of the few who knew of Malfoy's true alliances. Malfoy came to Dumbledore for help, but the only people who knew were Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape, who met his end a few weeks before the final battle when he refused to give up the identity of the other spy.

Over the three years that followed Draco's defection from the Death Eater ranks, the hatred between the two slowly attenuated until they formed a rocky friendship based on insults and acceptance. It really didn't matter, because Draco died only three nights after they stepped passed mutual acceptance into a hesitant friendship.

Or so Harry was lead to believe.

Draco joins Harry, wearily leaning on a large black car as they both remain completely silent. Harry desperately wants Draco to say something first, because he has very little idea what to say. While they had never been good friends, Draco's death had hit him like a ton of bricks on his chest — it had seemed like everyone associated with him always died.

"You were dead." Harry looks around, belatedly realizing that the words came from his lips.

Draco, however, only gave him a tired smirk, lacking all of his usual smugness and uppity attitude. "_Really_, Potter? I hadn't noticed. _Thank you_ for pointing that little tidbit of information out for me."

His drawl, on the other hand, is still the exact same.

_Brilliant_.

"So how'd you do it?" Harry says softly, not bothering to bite back. While Castiel was a large help in bringing back a lot of his old traits, the snubs weren't on the list anywhere. He isnt the cocky Gryffindor Draco knew, because too much has happened to Harry since the blonde's ill-fated death.

"_I _didn't_." _Draco huffs, pulling on a strand of his dirty hair with a glazed look to him. "I don't know what did it. It I only just woke up a month ago."

"_What _did it?" Harry presses slowly, keeping his face neutral. "Not _who_?"

"Once more, Potter, your brilliance astounds me. No living person can raise the dead. Did you sleep through _all_ the classes at Hogwarts?"

"Shuddup, ferret." Even under the layers of dirt, Harry could see the sudden red tinge of anger that clings to Draco's face in the darkness. "So...why are you covered in dirt?"

"I am not talking about this with you, Potter."

Harry narrows his eyes at the tone and lackluster that reflects off the pale face of Harry's ex-rival. "Not sure if I care anyway."

"_Bollocks_." Hearing that word from a Malfoy may have been funny years ago, but it isn't anymore. Not after everything that's happened. Very little seems funny after seeing so much blood and murder. "You're a bloody Gryffindor. Curiosity probably has you about ready to jump off the broom already."

"If you don't want to tell me then why are you pushing the issue?"

Draco closes his eyes in exasperation, clearly trying to keep a clear head. It's an interesting thing for Harry to watch — never before has Draco bothered to suppress the urge to punch Harry in the face. "That's not the point, Potter."

Harry presses his lips together, deflating slightly. Though Draco may not have been his first choice on the sole person to be resurrected, he is here now. It's a connection and Harry isn't about to waste it on a childish fight. Then, in a quieter voice, "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"Does it look like I have a place?"

Harry chuckles despite himself. The thought of a Malfoy applying and working at a muggle job in an attempt to make enough money to stay a a dingy motel was an odd, and slightly disconcerting, thought, Draco Malfoy probably doesn't have the slightest idea on how to get the proper materials to even _apply_ for a job.

"I have a temporary apartment on the other side of town. You can get cleaned up there."

_(~) (~) (~) (~) (~)_

Harry's leaning back in one of his comfy chairs — conveniently magicked into being a few weeks earlier when Harry got tired of there only being one small bed — with his earphones in ear, listening to one of his preferred muggle bands when cool wind breezes gently by his face. It's not particularly strong and Harry knows it's Castiel without even opening his eyes.

The young wizard doesn't peel his eyes open right away. He isn't particularly happy with Castiel right now — being ignored for over a month hurts. Harry understands that Castiel has duties back in Heaven. Hell, Harry can empathize with having another world where responsibility is a priority, but Harry can't help but to feel a small amount of anger. He's only human after all. It's in his nature.

"Who's here?"

And the question is so Castiel. Direct and to the point — no greetings needed.

Harry opens a single eye slightly, turning off the music. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, carefully monitoring the angel's face. "Hey to you too, Cas." Castiel is in perfect condition,without so much as a wrinkle in his trenchcoat. "A friend."

"I do not like him."

Harry snorts, finally opening his eyes fully. "Not many people do."

Castiel frowns, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. The sound of running water drifts out to the couple. "His soul is...odd," Castiel says slowly — almost as if he's choosing his words carefully. "There's something — strange."

"Well, he did come back from the dead." Harry mutters, nonchalant. Inwardly, he's as curious as a Kneazle. "Know anyone who can do that?"

"Any angel has the ability, but I know of none who would willingly pull a human back from either Heaven or Hell."

Or in other words, _no_.

"Brilliant. I've got nothing, too. So, I have to deal with him for now."

After a few long moments, Castiel turns his attention fully away from the closed door — though there is still a bit of idle curiosity in the contours of his face — and steps closer to Harry. "I have found out that one of my my superiors wish you dead."

"I thought you already knew that?" Harry doesn't bother to put any humor behind his voice — it's useless to attempt to put a smile on an angel's face using human emotions.

"I wasn't sure _who_, but now it's very clear." If Harry didn't know better, he may have thought there was sarcasm hidden in his tone somewhere. "I have many brothers and it took me longer to get back than I believed."

Any remaining anger or bitterness left him at Castiel's dejection and the complete exhaustion that seems to linger over Castiel, clinging to him desperately. Harry reaches out, pulling Castiel down beside him. The chair conveniently extended just enough to accommodate the extra body.

"Have I heard of him?"

One of Castiel lips twitch slightly, but he merely shakes his head. No. "Zachariah isn't well known to humans."

"Why—_why_ does he want to kill me? I guess I don't understand." He doesn't mean to sound insecure or frightened because he's neither, but the thought that a god-honest angel wants him dead when they're supposed to be the _protectors_ is enough to make him sick to his stomach.

But Castiel doesn't answer, because he's suddenly gone from beside Harry. The space where his angel had been only moments earlier is deserted. He looks up when he hears someone clear their throat.

Draco.

"Did I hear someone else talking out here?"

"No." Because that's what Castiel would want him to answer. Harry stands, abandoning the chair as he pushes open the door leading to his small kitchen. "It was no one."

_Lying, _he thinks to himself as Draco shrugs to the nonchalant reply, _Wow, Harry. That's classy._

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><p><em>Tisk, tisk, Harry. Lying.<em>

_ So, now we have another HP character. There aren't enough Supernatural/Harry Potter Crossovers with Draco and he fit with a character story line, so here he is. _

_What do you think? Review!_


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